


Passion and Flame

by incurableromancer



Category: The Old Guard (Comics), The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, M/M, Sex, Stupid Boys, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:00:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26669365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incurableromancer/pseuds/incurableromancer
Summary: Yusuf likes to see Nicolo impassioned, and there’s one surefire way he knows to draw it out of him.Or: Oblivious Nicky, besotted Joe, schoolyard crush tactics and the inevitable coming together.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 29
Kudos: 334





	Passion and Flame

**Author's Note:**

> because there can never be too many hot takes on how they got together

In the early days of their companionship, Yusuf starts a lot of arguments. They are exhausting, infuriating, and they leave Nicolo ranting, sputtering and waving his hands about like a lunatic. Worse, Yusuf seemingly does not bring to or take from them any frustration at all. He treats this ritual of winding Nicolo up like any other daily activity. There was a time when Nicolo simply would have drawn his sword in response to such wild provocation, when they would have chased each other around and slashed and yelled until the exhaustion led to either a death (sometimes two) or a truce. They have agreed, however, not to carry on like that any longer. It makes little sense to physically attack each other, rendering them more vulnerable should actual enemies decide to try them (because even before the fighting stopped, they had come to the conclusion that being together was much better than walking off into the vacuum of time alone). And besides, it was getting impractical to constantly have to find replacements for their ragged, bloody clothing.

_(Nicolo, I am not sure why you like this bread so much. It is bland and of poor texture, and speaks to what poor taste your people have.)_

And so Nicolo has had to learn to fight back with his words. Because Yusuf- maddening, infuriating, cheeky Yusuf, will throw out the most _enraging_ provocations with a look like excitement making his eyes that are so stupid (warm), idiotic (unbelievably playful and expressive), unbearable (his intent gaze makes Nicolo’s stomach flutter and his pulse quicken in a way that can’t be good) positively _shimmer._ And it’s not fair at all, because Nicolo is not one to speak in excess. He has never before had to defend his thinking in such a way, against such preposterous notions, and he finds thoughts and feelings he’s never even had to articulate spilling out with more emotion than he’s even known himself to be capable of. That Yusuf doesn’t even defend his initial musings when Nicolo goes off on him makes it all the more illogical, and stokes the fire he lights in Nicolo, making it burn so much hotter, suffocating him, with nowhere for the smoke to escape. 

_(You’re a terrible navigator, Nicolo. You’d probably have died a thousand times over, lost in the desert and long run out of water, without me.)_

(This, less than a fortnight after Yusuf’s miscalculation led them to circle a settlement they desperately needed to trade in for some food a whole three times before he realized his error, and two more before he admitted it.)

And always, he has the _absolute_ _audacity_ to smile at Nicolo in a way that is _absurd_ considering he’s the one who starts the fights, and never finishes them. That maddening grin only shines brighter the longer Nicolo goes on to dispute him, the closer his accusatory fingers get to Yusuf’s face, the hotter the anger smoulders under his skin, the adrenaline sharpening and quickening his words until he finds himself close enough that he could easily grasp the collar of Yusuf’s tunic and shake some sense into him, or a more appropriate reaction out. He almost wishes that Yusuf would just stab him again instead. Or strangle him, instead of allowing Nicolo to get so worked up and offering absolutely no outlet or resolution for the pressure.

It is maddening to Nicolo, watching Yusuf constantly ignite sparks that tempt the short fuse on the strange tension between them. It’s almost as though he _wants_ Nicolo to be pushed to the point of laying hands on him.

_(You’re lucky you are so strong and muscled, Nicolo. Otherwise those traders would have taken even more drastic advantage over your naivety and generosity, and given you an even worse deal.)_

And tonight, the sheer insolence, the disrespect, the simple audacity of Yusuf’s claim makes something snap in him.

They had spent the day bathing and foraging along a river, collecting enough water and food to allow them to undertake a longer journey across the desert. They have a fire going, and sit sprawled out in the soft, long grass, unwinding before a night of rest in preparation for the journey. They are watching the orange sunset transform the clear skies into something beautiful. Basking in the transitioning hours of the sky, and then under the stunning weight of the stars, is something they love with equal fervour.

Where Nicolo is leaning back on his arms, palms splayed against the ground, Yusuf is laying flat on his back. And then Yusuf turns to smile at him, that familiar mischief lighting his face. With a sigh, Nicolo turns his face away from the view, preparing himself for some attack on his worldview, or the culture he comes from, or his survival skills, or his earlier clumsiness that had startled away the family of birds Yusuf had been trying to sketch.

Yusuf flicks his tongue against his lip, before stating plainly, “you’re annoying, Nicolo.”

Nicolo only blinks down at him.

Yusuf raises his eyebrows in challenge, smile growing. Nicolo remains still as a statue, pink lips parted slightly in a gape, aquatic eyes betraying only a blank incredulity, aside from a slight twitching of the right side of his face.

And so Yusuf elaborates, stretching his arms before linking his palms behind his head. Nicolo wonders if he can’t see the flames of fury growing out of control in his own chest, licking their way throughout his entire body.

“You’re strange. Irritating. _Irksome,_ even.”

And he would have gone on, could have listed an extensive further list of synonyms and adjectives, had Nicolo not then smacked him square in the face.

Yusuf’s stunned cry when Nicolo’s palm connects with his scruffy jaw, the agitated way his eyebrows come together as his neck jerks away from the force brings Nicolo more satisfaction than any of his previous verbal rebuttals ever could have.

At the same time Yusuf begins to sputter and curse at him, Nicolo firmly replies, _“you_ are annoying.”

Yusuf stares back at him, just as thrown off. This is usually the part where Nicolo starts rambling, but he offers nothing more. He’s only staring Yusuf down, the ferocity of his gaze positively scorching.

And so Yusuf thrusts out his hand to smack him back.

Nicolo has the advantage, leaning over Yusuf as he is, and so it’s no surprise that he takes the window of opportunity to dive on top in the ensuing squabble.

Yusuf is never one to surrender easily, however, mostly managing to protect his own face while shoving unmercifully at Nicolo’s chest, squirming in an attempt to dislodge Nicolo’s knees, planted on either side of his body.

“You- _stupid-_ man-“ Nicolo seems to growl at him, the rumble of his voice more venomous than Yusuf has heard in a very long time. He’s shifting to distribute his weight more evenly and trying to trap Yusuf’s arms, to stop the nimble fingers now pulling at his hair, making the fire in him heat tenfold.

“I’m _annoying_? That’s the best you can do?”

He lets out an indignant cry as Yusuf attempts to knee him in the groin, spitting up at him “Well- you are!”

And then Yusuf fumbles a moment too long, giving Nicolo an opportunity to trap his torso and legs by sitting himself firmly down on his hips. He fails to notice the way Yusuf’s eyes widen in something other than anger, the marked difference in the heat he feels in his own body, drinking in the utter satisfaction of finally getting to resolve one of these fights and allowing his long-brewing frustrations to bubble to the surface, forcing himself to take Yusuf’s merciless tugging and scratching and pushing at him in stride. His own hands finally curl into the material covering Yusuf’s shoulders, dragging him up so close that their noses bump, foreheads knocking (he doesn’t comprehend the implications of Yusuf’s hands in that moment, that they aren’t pushing anymore, but now pulling, grasping him closer).

“I am? And so what! Do you really hate me so much?”

The words form out of the coals of the fire, but soften into something a little more desperate, a little less sure as they leave his mouth, his body shifting to press closer with each exclamation, to push back against Yusuf’s pressing up into him.

“Is that why you spend so much time trying to anger me and pushing me to the brink of insanity with your refusal to fight back? Are you so eager to drive me away?”

Yusuf’s head and shoulders are hovering inches above the ground, his fingers now clutching at the tensed muscles in Nicolo’s arms that are holding him up. Nicolo doesn’t exactly drop him with the shock of Yusuf’s lips, his teeth and tongue, suddenly on him, pressing insistently, desperately, inside, but the way he slams him into the ground in order to increase the pressure, to viciously kiss and claim him back, exerts a greater force, making Yusuf grunt.

And this release, the flames escaping his chest to engulf Yusuf too, and _his_ flames in turn setting Nicolo ablaze, is so good and satisfying that it makes him dizzy.

The shifting, rutting, pushing and pulling, the delicious, mouth watering heat of it all is the only reassurance Nicolo really needs, pieces suddenly sliding into place, but as they gasp for breath, Yusuf finally deems it time to give him some of the verbal fight back.

“ _I’m_ stupid?”

A fascinating thing happens to his voice as Nicolo bites his neck, a certain breathiness (the smoke escaping), a sound that drives Nicolo to move faster and harder, to whine softly when Yusuf’s hips match his renewed pace, trying to get him closer, to touch him in as many places as possible. It seems Yusuf finds the sounds Nicolo makes equally enticing, hands returning to the sensitive places that elicit his sighs and sounds over and over again.

“How you could possibly think I hate you when I do nothing but try to bring you closer is beyond me. And you fail to realize that _it worked_ , idiot! You say anger, and I see passion, Nicolo. Always so quiet, you- and that’s annoying- mmf, _infuriating_ , when you have so much passion the moment I ask to see it. You’re- _ah_ , beautiful.”

Yusuf offers the first gentle touch to Nicolo, then, a hand cupping gently the side of his face (where he’d smacked him only minutes before). And so Nicolo, panting above him, offers in return a gentle kiss to his palm. He sighs with the whisper of Yusuf’s thumb against his lip, eyelashes fluttering as he curls his hand around Yusuf’s, lacing their fingers and pressing them above Yusuf’s head, dragging through his curls. The stretch of the position seems to do something for him, and Nicolo watches his head tip back, feels the tension drain from his thighs, relaxing into Nicolo’s movements, losing himself in only the pleasure he’s given.

Nicolo’s lips wander his jaw, and he murmurs, “But- _mm, Yusuf-_ but you’ve never given me your passion back in return before now. I never realized what you were asking for.”

He gasps softly then, as Yusuf tenses and arches up beneath him, feet sliding restlessly in the grass, hips rocking up, fingers tightening around Nicolo’s as a low sound spills from his throat. It’s all Nicolo can do to nose again into his neck and follow, the pleasure overtaking him like a boiling wave, until it’s just them and their quickened breathing, wrapped up in each other under the magnificent sky.

Nicolo has a moment of terror coming down from the sweetness, where he wonders if any movement will lead to Yusuf pushing him away, and maybe even drawing his sword. But then Yusuf’s gentle fingers tickle up his neck to stroke through his hair, gentle laughter shaking his firm chest, and all of Nicolo’s worries are again washed away.

He takes a moment to inhale Yusuf’s warm, sweet, earthy scent before he lifts his head, following the movement through to kiss those smiling lips again before he can talk himself out of it. Thoughts less narrow now, less frantic, there's room for him to think about how very much he likes the scratch of Yusuf's beard against his skin. And Yusuf meets him eagerly, slower this time, giggles and smiles preventing them from doing much more than pecking at each other. Nicolo pets over his curls in apology for his earlier roughness. Then he rolls to the side, so that he’s beside Yusuf in the grass again. Only he’s much closer this time, linking their fingers and letting their arms touch from wrist to shoulder.

And as Yusuf grins over at him again with his mischievous smile, Nicolo stubbornly keeps his eyes on the sky. He lets Yusuf admire his blush, his crinkled eyes and the dimples in his cheeks from the side.

(He’ll offer his own mischievous smile, later, after Yusuf too turns his head again to watch the stars come out. And then he’ll be the one to make a provocation, now that he understands, eager to invite Yusuf’s passion.)

**Author's Note:**

> thank u so much for reading i hope u enjoyed


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